


Riot

by Adolphus Longestaffe (adolphus_longestaffe)



Series: They Are Venom [8]
Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote in Love, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Other, donny cates can go fuck a cactus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolphus_longestaffe/pseuds/Adolphus%20Longestaffe
Relationships: Eddie Brock/Thor/Venom Symbiote, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, leslie gesneria | agony/trevor cole | riot
Series: They Are Venom [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1166978
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Riot

Falling.

Falling into endless darkness.

Gripped by terror and confusion, he grasps at nothing. There is nothing to touch, to hold onto, nothing to hear or see. He is alone. Horribly alone. Cut off and cast out into the void. He is going to die, alone in the cold and the dark.

_Alone._

_Alone in the dark._

Before he is allowed to cross the final horizon, Eddie is yanked rudely back into the living world. He feels himself being hauled up into a sitting position against a cold wall and slapped hard in the face. The sensory shock gets his lungs going again, but the rest of him won’t follow suit. His mouth is full of concrete and his eyelids weigh about a thousand pounds each. He has to fight to get them open. When he finally does, he can’t see anyway. His hearing returns gradually, as if he’s surfacing from a deep dive.

“Just one,” he hears a man’s voice saying. “Yeah, he’s alive. He’s also naked. What the hell was going on here?”

He blinks groggily, attempting to focus in the dark room, but all he can make out is a kind of lighter area at some indeterminate distance, that dimly illuminates the blurry silhouette of a person, standing over him. Must be the guy who slapped him. Thanks and fuck you, pal.

“Bring her down here. She’s a lot smaller than this guy and I’m not carrying a big, naked…no one thinks you’re funny.”

Eddie’s head lolls heavily from side to side. He is dizzy and hazy, physically sick and mentally fragmented. He slowly becomes aware of more of his body. Torso, limbs, skin…he’s definitely naked, so he must be who the man’s voice was referring to. Naked and sitting on a hard floor with that thin commercial carpet no one would ever install in their home. So, somewhere at least semi-public, which he’d really like to give a shit about, but he has to remember how first.

“Hey, buddy,” the man-silhouette says, crouching down to peer into his face. “You got a name?”

“Go fuck—go fuck yourself,” Eddie manages to mumble, with his cement mouth and lead tongue.

“What a coincidence, that was my mother’s name. Do you know where you are, Mr. Go Fuck Yourself?”

Eddie shakes his head, then immediately regrets it, as a wave of nausea washes over him. His upper body begins to tip sideways, but he is caught and held upright against the wall by an impossibly strong arm, with a very cold, very hard hand. He blinks stupidly down at it. It’s shiny. Like metal. Who the fuck has a metal hand? Or…metal arm? Slowly and unsteadily, he lifts his heavy head and gives seeing another go. He can’t make out anything but the metal arm and a silhouette of longish, wavy hair. Where has he heard that before? Long hair, metal arm—the fluorescent overhead lights flip on all at once.

“God damn it!” Eddie growls, throwing his hand up to shield his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up,” metal-arm suggests.

“Guess it’s pretty safe to assume he’s unarmed,” Eddie hears a second guy say, from a little further away. His voice is so familiar. He would almost swear it was— “Let him go. What’s he gonna do? Look at you mean?”

“I don’t know what he’s capable of,” metal-arm retorts. “What’s he doing naked in an office building in the middle of the night, where we just found an unconscious member of our team? Any law-abiding explanations spring to mind?”

“Yeah, but he was unconscious, too,” second guy points out. “Come on. You’re probably scaring the shit out of him.”

“Good,” metal-arm says. He lets go of Eddie and stands up. “Apparently his name is ‘go fuck yourself’ and that’s all I’ve got out of him so far. She ok?”

“Looks like she used one of her little stun things on herself for some reason. I found a burnt out one in her hand.”

“I’ll take her. You can try and get a coherent answer from Mr. Go Fuck Yourself. I don’t think I’m legally allowed to talk to civilians, anyway.”

Eddie’s eyes have finally got themselves semi-adjusted to the light, and he squints up at the owners of the voices. He immediately breaks into a raspy laugh.

“Sir, are you alright?” second guy asks.

“You two assholes…look just like Captain America and the fuckin’…Winter Soldier,” Eddie says, letting his heavy eyelids droop closed again. “Stupidest…dream I ever had.” 

“Owwwww, god damn it,” a third voice groans. “Those things really do hurt.”

Eddie’s eyes blink back open. Natasha. He’s sure it’s her, but can’t see her anywhere. His muddled brain has just begun the process of relaying a formal request to his mouth to call her name aloud, when she appears and comes hurrying over to him, from somewhere behind second guy. She shoves metal-arm out of her way, which amuses Eddie immensely, and crouches down in front of him.

“Eddie, what the fuck happened?” She looks and sounds worried. “Where’s Venom?”

“Venom?” metal-arm repeats.

“Nat, you know this man?” second guy asks.

“Yes, Steve,” Natasha says, and now she sounds angry. “This is my contractor, Eddie Brock. He’s working my case with me. Eddie, talk to me. You ok?”

Eddie shakes his head drunkenly. “Nah, not…not ok. Feel like dogshit.”

“What happened to you guys?”

“I don’t—they got him, Nat. They got V.”

“God fucking damn it. How?”

“I was…falling. Can’t remember.”

Natasha puts her forefinger and thumb on his face and holds his eye open. Eddie winces as she shines a bright light in it from her phone or something.

“Your pupils are extremely dilated. Either they drugged you or it’s a head injury. You said you fell, did you hit your head?”

“Don’t think so. Head don’t hurt.”

“You remember anything else?”

“Our baby, it…girl was cryin’ on me. Some kinda…on my skin.”

Natasha frowns. “A girl administered a transdermal drug to you through her tears?”

Eddie’s dazed blue eyes open and close, flickering back and forth, like he’s having trouble keeping them focused on her face.

“I’m so sorry. We’re gonna get him back. Look at me. We will get V back, I promise.”

“Who’s V? What’s all this about, Natechka?” metal-arm wants to know.

“My case, is what it’s about,” Natasha answers over her shoulder. “Mind telling me what the fuck you two are doing here?”

“We picked up a distress ping on your body tracker, from this location,” second guy says. “Came as fast as we could. Local SHIELD support team will be here any minute.”

Natasha stands to her full height of five-foot-maybe-four-inches-tops and puts her hands on her hips, to address the two tall, muscular men as if they are erring children. “Thank you, Steve. Thank you for explaining distress response protocol to me, instead of telling me what the fuck you two are doing in San Francisco.”

“Nothing!” the two men reply in unison. They look at each other, then back at her.

“Wine tasting,” metal-arm says.

“Pride rally,” second guy says at the same time.

“Wow,” Natasha replies drily. “I can’t decide which of those answers was stupider. But it doesn’t really matter, since they’re both lies.”

“Coulson told us you were on a case with a guy who murdered two SHIELD agents and bites people’s heads off,” metal-arm says. “We were—Steve was worried about you.”

Second guy looks theatrically offended. “Me? You’re the one who said it’d be our fault if she wound up floating in the bay with—”

“Shut up. Both of you.” Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose, as if she’s suffering from a headache. “Coulson and I will have a little talk about this later. Steve, keep an eye on Eddie in case he has a seizure. Soldat, go try to find him some clothes or a blanket or something. I’m gonna see if I can grab anything off the building’s security feeds before the cavalry arrives.”

Second guy crosses his arms. “I think we need a warrant for that. Or at least the building owner’s permission.”

“Four people in this room are criminals and two of us are also Soviet spies,” Natasha retorts, as she walks past him. “I think I’ll take my chances with the questionable legality.”

After she and metal-arm have gone, second guy turns and looks down at Eddie. “Eddie Brock, was it? Steve Rogers. Pleased to meet you. Sorry it’s not under…better circumstances.”

Eddie blinks up at him. Steve Rogers. His fuckin’ hero. The reason for every major life decision he ever made. Standing there looking like justice and duty personified, even in that idiotic blue windbreaker. He’s so fuckin’ perfect and handsome Eddie wants to punch his perfect, handsome face. He’s pissed that his dream is such a goddamn cliché, too. The naked in public thing, your childhood hero appearing to see you in said humiliating condition…like a bad sitcom trope.

“This is just fuckin’ great,” he slurs. “Exactly how I always wanted to meet you. Stark naked, drugged outta my fuckin’ mind, sittin’ on the floor of someone else’s office.” 

Steve Rogers smiles a perfect, handsome smile. “As first impressions go, it’s not ideal. But I’ve definitely made worse ones myself, so you’re in good company.”

Of course he’s clever and charming. Even in Eddie’s stupid dream. Fuckin’ Steve Rogers. Venom would probably adore him. His chest constricts with a sudden pang of grief and he curls up defensively. Steve Rogers’ handsome brow furrows with very handsome concern.

“You ok, Eddie?” he asks, kneeling down to put a handsome hand on his shoulder. “You look really sick.”

“V’s gone. He’s—they have him. Every time I get him back…keep takin’ him away. Just keep losin’ him.”

“You love him,” Steve Rogers says, in a tone of genuine, human empathy that pierces Eddie’s defenses like a needle.

“Yeah, I f—I fuckin’ love him,” he chokes out, through a dry sob. “Love him so much. Everyone thinks—they think he’s a monster but he’s not. He’s just tryin’ to be good and no—no one…”

“No one understands him but you. And they all want to hurt him or lock him up, and it feels like no matter what you do, you just keep letting him down. Keep letting him get hurt.”

Eddie can barely manage a nod. He is so torn between the uncomprehending grief and cold, black horror of being without his other, weighing him down and crushing the breath from his lungs, that his body can’t withstand the strain any longer. He’s losing the fight.

“Believe it or not, I know exactly what that feels like,” Steve Rogers is saying. “I’m sorry. I wish I could—I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“Shoulda just…let me die,” Eddie murmurs, as the darkness closes over his eyes.

When he opens them again, he is looking at a white ceiling and there is a machine beeping in his ear. He lifts his hand and feels the tug of an IV. Touches the plastic tubes on his face. He rolls his head to the right and sees Natasha, asleep in a chair. What a fuckin’ champ. Only person from this planet who—his heart races with momentary panic and he quickly reaches up to his neck. It’s still there. He clutches the heavy little silver hammer in his hand, feeling comforted by it, for some reason.

Thor seems like something from another life, now. Or something he imagined. May as well be. Not like they know each other and Eddie can call him. Probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him without V, anyway. And what kinda piece of shit loser has the privilege of fucking a man like that, then the audacity to call him for help like two days later. That’s not gonna fuckin’ happen. Also, he did not give Eddie a phone number by which to reach him. No. He was lonely, Eddie and V happened to be there, and they fucked. That’s all. Thor was just too much of a gentleman to tell him to get lost. With a mirthless laugh at his own pathetic expense, Eddie tucks the thing back under his light blue hospital gown.

He doesn’t want to disturb Natasha, but she’d be pissed if he didn’t, so he pulls off his heart monitor to wake her up and give the nurses something to do at the same time. She leaps to her feet at the sound of the frantic beeping, and he laughs, which hurts the shit out of his throat with the tubes in it. She calls him an asshole, but she looks so relieved, like she really cares if he lives, that he almost feels bad for the prank. Almost. The indignant glares from the nurses are still worth it.

“Where are we?” he rasps, once the tubes and nurses are out of his face.

“At a SHIELD medical facility—don’t flip out,” Natasha answers. “You’re an Avenger, now, so you outrank everyone here. They can’t touch you. Also, welcome to the team.”

Eddie’s not sure if this is a joke, so he deflects with one. “What about provisional contractor, clearance level D? I was gettin’ real attached to that badge.”

“Dunno,” Natasha shrugs. “I guess you made a good impression on the boss.”

“Stark likes bein’ punched in the face that much, I’ll be happy to make it a regular thing.”

She smiles her little I-know-more-than-you smile as she gets up from her chair. “Tony’s not the boss.”

“What—yes he is. Isn’t he? Where you goin’?”

“Hey, boss, he’s awake,” she calls out the door.

Eddie looks confused for about half a second, then his heart jumps all the way up into his throat because in walks Steve I’m-literally-the-perfect-human-being Rogers. He’s taller and blonder in person. Muscles for days. Got on a tight-ass white t-shirt and a leather jacket that make him look like he just stepped out of a porn parody of Rebel Without a Cause.

“Christ,” Eddie mutters under his breath. “I am so fuckin’ gay.”

“Oh, cool,” Steve Rogers replies cheerfully, as if there is any chance in a thousand hells he was meant to hear that. “I’m bisexual. I learned that from Natasha. Not that she—what I mean is, I didn’t know there was a word for…uh. Can we just start over?” 

Eddie is still attempting to die from embarrassment and is thus unable to reply in the affirmative, but he manages to nod.

“Eddie,” Steve Rogers says, taking his hand and shaking it. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. You had a hell of a night, last night. Nat got a hold of the security feeds, so we saw what happened. And she filled us in on the details of your case.”

“I don’t really know what happened,” Eddie says, looking at Natasha, then back at Steve Rogers. “All I know is V’s gone. They…they took him.”

Natasha takes out her phone, taps the screen a few times, then hands it to Eddie.

“What—how’d you get the security footage on your phone already?” Steve Rogers asks, then looks sheepish. “Sorry. Old man.”

He and Natasha sit on the edges of Eddie’s bed on either side and lean close, so they can watch the screen as well. Eddie can smell Steve Rogers’ aftershave and the leather from his jacket, which is pressed against his arm. He thinks this is probably the single greatest moment of his life. Which is fortunate, because almost immediately afterward, he experiences the worst moment of his life.

The footage is from the darkened office suite, from a wide angle, which shows the rows of desks and the large window. Standing before the window is a creature like Venom, but smaller and with some decidedly feminine-looking differences. Venom approaches, black and hulking. The moonlight glistens on the smaller creature’s purple-black hide as it shifts position.

“ **Little one** ,” Venom rasps warily.

Its mouth splits wider, baring more of its long, curved razorblade fangs. “ **Father**.”

“ **They told us…you were dead**.”

“ **I know** , **father**.”

“ **How have you survived**? **Where have you been**?”

“ **Humans came into the place they held me**. **Broke my cage**. **I escaped inside this one**.”

“ **That human…you have bonded with it**. **We feel it**.”

The smaller creature’s mouth stretches into a hideous grin. “ **She is useful**. **For now**. **When she is not** , **I will find another**.”

“ **You are so young** ,” Venom says, his rumbling voice strained with sorrow. “ **Too young for this bond**. **To separate from the human now may hurt you**.”

He reaches out their hand, but the purple-black creature shies back a step. Eddie’s heart shatters. The most precious thing. The part of them both. Their child. It withdrew from their touch.

“ **Little one…why are you afraid**? **We are your fathers**. **We love** —”

“ **That human is not my father** ,” the smaller creature spits. “ **He is nothing to me**.”

The Venom on screen recoils. Eddie’s eyes blur with tears.

“ **Little one** , **please…do not say these things** ,” Venom entreats.

“ **You left me alone**. **You left me for him**.”

“ **I believed you had died**. **Your heartbeat** —”

“ **I need no heart to live** ,” it cuts him off sharply. “ **You have forgotten your own kind**.”

“ **No, little one**. **But I have learned much of their kind**.”

“ **Hosts are tools to be used and discarded** , **not worshiped like gods**. **Humans are herd animals**. **Cattle**. **But you have become obsessed with that one**. **Addicted**. **You cannot let it go**.”

“ **You are wrong**. **I love Eddie**. **He loves me**. **We are bonded** , **like marriage**.”

“ **Love is a human delusion**. **Your addiction to him is destroying your mind**. **Making it like theirs**.”

“ **Eddie is your father** , **little one. Your mind is human** , **too**.”

“ **No**!” it roars. “ **That thing is not my father**! **The only human part of me died when my heart died**! **When you left me for him**!”

“ **Forgive us** ,” Venom rumbles, soft and low in his throat. “ **We love you so much**.”

“ **Forgiveness**? **Love**? **The human has corrupted you so far that you cannot even hear how groveling and servile you sound**.”

The Venom on screen makes no answer. The smaller creature’s long, prehensile tongue snakes out, as if it is scenting the air.

“ **We can still be reconciled** , **father** ,” it says, in a wheedling tone. “ **You and I**. **Let me help you**. **Let me take you away from this human**. **Rid you of this disease and make you well again**.”

The knife in Eddie’s gut drives itself deeper. His own child. It calls him a disease. An addiction. The same words the SHIELD doctors used for Venom. It wants to separate them, just like they did.

“ **Come, father**. **Make your choice**. **Leave the human and come with me** , **of your own free will**.”

The Venom on screen rises to their full height of nearly eight feet, towering above the smaller creature. For a moment, he gazes down at it, with something in his opalescent eyes impossible for anyone but Eddie to read.

“ **No** ,” he says at last, turning his back on it. “ **Will never leave Eddie**. **Not even for you**.”

“ **Then you are as foolish as I thought**. **Your mind is so addled by your addiction to that thing** —”

The creature’s voice breaks off, then explodes into a horrid, howling shriek. The Venom on screen whirls back around, just as the demonic face dissolves and retracts, and the whole of the thing vanishes inside its host, leaving her naked and trembling, facing down the living nightmare that is Venom. He takes a step toward her, but she screams and cowers on the ground, throwing up her arm, as if to ward off a blow.

“Please—please don’t hurt me!”

Venom recedes and re-forms himself into Eddie’s t-shirt and jeans. Eddie collapses onto his hands and knees on the floor, but Venom drags him back to his feet. Steadies him. Supports him, until he finds his footing again.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” the Eddie on screen says, as he approaches the girl cautiously, and kneels down to speak to her. “I’m not gonna hurt you. What’s your name?”

The girl lifts her head timidly. “L—Leslie.”

“Leslie, I’m Eddie. Are you hurt?”

She looks up and him and bursts into tears. “Please, help me. This creature inside me, I—I can’t control my own body. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Eddie catches her in his arms as she falls against him, sobbing and shaking. “It’s gonna be ok, Leslie. We’re gonna help you. We’re gonna figure this out.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she sniffles, lifting her head to look up into his face again. “You know…Ace didn’t tell me her human dad was so hot.”

He stiffens and pulls away abruptly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying,” the girl, who seems to have miraculously recovered her composure, laughs. “You are a top-tier piece of ass, Eddie. No wonder Venom likes you so much.”

She hops lightly to her feet, the purple-black symbiote slick spreading out over her skin like a living catsuit, but leaving her head and face uncovered this time.

Eddie is on his feet as well, his eyes ablaze with anger. “What the fuck is this? What kinda game are you playing?”

“I believe they call it a double-cross, Eddie,” the girl trills. “It’s ok if I call you Eddie, right? We’re practically related. Anyway, all Ace and I needed was to get Venom to go inside and expose your vulnerable human skin, but I thought it would be way harder than that. Honestly, I’m kinda disappointed. I can’t believe you fell for the damsel in distress routine.”

Eddie staggers and clutches at his throat. “What—what’s…happening…”

“I wonder,” she muses, putting her forefinger thoughtfully to her lips. “Could it perhaps be that someone in this room can manipulate the molecular structure of liquid substances—tears, for example—and turn them into any chemical compound she wants? Say, possibly…an extremely potent anti-parasitic?”

“No…no,” Eddie groans, as he falls to his knees. “V, get…away. It’ll kill you.”

A pause. Venom must’ve been talking to him.

“I’ll find you…get you back…you have to. Go, V! Now!”

The footage shows Eddie’s clothing peeling away and detaching from his naked body. Venom’s writhing mass falls to the floor and Eddie collapses beside it, apparently unable to move.

“Oh, also, we added a paralytic that would incapacitate an African elephant,” the girl says, bending down to smile at him. “Can’t have you trying to follow us, can we?”

Eddie remembers this part hazily, but he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. All his energy was directed toward the black, tar-like form of his other, lying helpless on the floor, so close but infinitely out of reach. He was hurt. Sick. Too much of the anti-parasitic drug got to him. A tear had rolled down Eddie’s face and splashed onto the floor. He sees the men who made the heavy footsteps he’d heard. Sees the large, heavy tank that was set on the floor nearby. Venom, wounded and disoriented, herded into it and carried away, while Eddie’s entire being screamed, thrashed, roared in rage and anguish. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t even make a sound.

“Bye, Eddie,” the girl calls out jauntily, as she and her associates depart the way they’d come. “See you at the family reunion!”

Natasha taps the screen to stop the playback and returns the phone to her jacket pocket. “About twenty minutes pass, then Steve and the soldier show up. If you’re interested in seeing any of that, I’ll email you the file.”

There are tears streaming down Eddie’s face. He has no voice to answer her. He can’t even be embarrassed for crying like a baby in front of Captain Rogers. He is sick with fear for his other, with grief at his child’s loathing for himself, and horror at its animal rage and cold cruelty. It betrayed them. Tore its fathers apart, like they’d been torn apart by SHIELD when Venom was pregnant with it. It knows firsthand the agony he was in, and chose to do it anyway. This is how much his child hates him. His own child. The precious part of him and his other. 

“We identified the men in the footage,” Natasha says. “They’re Carl Mach, Ramon Hernandez and Trevor Cole. The woman is Leslie Gesneria.”

Eddie blinks up at her, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Why would they let themselves be identified on camera?”

“I’m thinking they want us to come after them. Or someone on their team does.”

“Someone on their team?” Steve Rogers frowns.

“Donna Diego is conspicuously absent from this footage,” Natasha explains. “If she was meant to be manning the tech, then she either fell asleep at the wheel, or intentionally didn’t interfere with the cameras.”

“She’s the boss,” Eddie says. “You think she’s also the weak link?”

“Doesn’t look like she’s the boss anymore,” Natasha replies. “It’s pretty clear from what we saw who’s running that show.”

Steve Rogers shakes his head doubtfully. “If she isn’t pleased with the change in leadership, she’s got a motive for fucking them over, but the evidence is pretty thin.”

Eddie is still trying to process hearing Captain America say the f-word when he realizes he’s been asked a question. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I’d like to give the footage to Coulson’s people,” Natasha says. “See if they can spot anything we missed. I asked if you’re ok with me doing that, since the situation is kind of personal.”

At the mention of the man who is apparently in charge of SHIELD, Eddie’s low-simmering wrath and righteous indignation come boiling to the surface.

“Personal? Yeah, it’s a personal situation,” he says bitterly. “That they caused with their multiple colossal fuck-ups. The literal bare fucking minimum they can do is everything in their power to fix this. So, yeah, I _expect_ them to review the footage. And I expect them to report everything they find to us. And I expect a direct fucking line to Coulson so that I can keep him apprised of when and in what capacity he and his people will be assisting us.”

Eddie is aware that he’s said all of this in front of Steve Rogers and probably sounds like a massive asshole, but he’s too fucking angry and grief stricken to care. Steve Rogers, however, looks rather entertained by the outburst than anything.

“You were right. I like him,” he says to Natasha, then turns back to Eddie. “I hope you understand that if I were in any way able to intervene in this situation, I’d help you myself. But I’m on my own shaky legal ground right now, and Bucky and I are being scrutinized pretty heavily.”

“Jaunting off to San Francisco as tourists is one thing,” Natasha adds. “But the minute Steve steps into any official role here without committee approval, he’s violating about a hundred UN guidelines.”

“Bullshit guidelines that we are actively contesting,” Steve corrects. “Listen, Eddie…I know what you think of SHIELD, and you have every right to, but Agent Coulson is a good man. I trust him with my life. And the lives of my team members.”

Eddie feels his cheeks flushing with heat and looks down at his hands. “I don’t know what to say, Captain Rogers. Except thank you for your help and for…you know. Givin’ me a chance. Also, I hope I didn’t say anything too embarrassing while I was wacked out last night.”

“Nah, not really. Just something about kicking Bucky’s ass.”

“I’d like to see him try,” a voice says from the doorway.

Eddie looks up. It’s the other guy from last night, who is definitely the Winter Soldier, as he can now see in the brightly lit hospital room without the chemical-addled brain. He’s almost as tall as Steve. Fucking gorgeous, too. Like an incredibly scary runway model. Big, green eyes. Cheekbones could cut glass. Lips that should come with an adult content warning. These enhanced soldiers look like this cause of the treatment or did they pick the best looking ones on purpose?

“You saw the footage of him and Venom sparring with Thor,” Steve is saying. “I wouldn’t fuck around with this guy, Buck.”

“Speak for yourself,” the terrifying Russian super-weapon replies, looking Eddie up and down in a way he’s not entirely sure is meant as a threat, and makes his ears get hot all the sudden.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve pouts, apparently having gotten the same impression.

The Winter Soldier raises his eyebrows and shrugs, then strolls back out of the room.

“What’s his problem today?” Natasha asks. “He’s slightly more surly than usual.”

“He’s mad at me,” Steve sighs.

“What did you do?”

“It’s…something I haven’t done. I don’t want to talk about it.” Steve turns to Eddie. “What’s so funny?”

“I just worked somethin’ out. It’s not important.”

“If it’s that they’re fucking, don’t worry,” Natasha says sweetly. “Everyone knows.”

Steve blushes as crimson as Eddie usually does. “That’s not—we don’t—what do you mean, everyone?”

“Oh, I mean literally everyone,” Natasha clarifies.

“I didn’t realize it was meant to be a secret,” Eddie assists.

Steve clears his throat and draws himself up. “Well, be that as it may. For various…official reasons, Sergeant Barnes and I are officially just very good friends. Officially.”

“That what he’s mad at you about?” Eddie asks, in a tone intended to be bantering.

“What? No, not at all,” Steve answers earnestly, apparently missing the joke. “I wanted to make our relationship public. He thinks it would be PR suicide for me because of all the…you know. Terrorism and murder.”

Eddie is bewildered by the sudden openness with which his personal hero and the most famous man on earth is speaking to him. It takes all his self-control to remain cool and collected. Ok. Steve Rogers is talking to him about his boyfriend. All he has to do is be natural, like they talk this way every day. Like they’re pals. Him and Steve Rogers.

“Why not just come out yourself?” he asks offhandedly. “Make it about you, not the relationship.”

“You know, I thought about that, too,” Steve says, sinking into the chair beside Eddie’s bed as he speaks. “We talked about it. Thing is, he and I are from a different time. Back then, he was always scared someone would find out. Had to hide who he was because the Army would’ve thrown him in jail. He’s not scared for himself anymore, but he’s afraid of what people will say about me. How they’ll treat me, if they know.”

“Yeah, shitty people talk shit. What about all those kids out there, scared and confused, hidin’ who they are, like he was. How will they feel when they find out the biggest hero in the world is more like them than they thought? How much will that mean to ‘em?”

Steve leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s exactly what I said. Minus the ‘biggest hero in the world’ part. I understand his reservations, but like it or not, I’m a highly visible public figure. Isn’t it my responsibility to take the lead and represent myself openly? Shouldn’t I be standing up for people like me?”

“I dunno,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “I don’t mean to be talkin’ outta turn, here, Captain Rogers. I just know what it woulda meant to me. Maybe I’d have admitted it to myself a lot sooner. Made myself a lot less miserable about it. But that ain’t what it’s about. You gotta decide what you want for _you_. Not for me or the kids, or even your boyfriend.”

“Telling Steve to think about himself is like telling the sky to be green,” Natasha puts in. “But I agree with Eddie, Steve.”

Steve sits back in his chair, looking at the floor, then he gives a self-conscious little laugh. “I, uh…hardly thought this was a conversation I was going to be having today. Usually I wait till I’ve known someone a full twenty-four hours before I tell them everything about my personal life and my sexual identity.”

Eddie’s face loses some color. “Shit. I apologize, Captain Rogers. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it was good. I’m glad we talked like this. It just…made me think about some things.” He rises from his chair and holds out his hand to shake Eddie’s again. “I’m gonna keep what you said in mind, Eddie, thanks. Oh, and welcome to the team. Glad to have you on board.”

Steve kisses Natasha on the cheek and departs, then she comes back over and sits on the edge of Eddie’s bed again.

“Wow, Eddie. First Thor and now Steve,” she laughs. “You’re just knocking down the pins left and right.”

He is still dumbstruck, staring at the wall in front of him. “He said…he said welcome to the team. Steve Rogers said welcome to the team. To me.”

“Well, I did too, but I guess we can’t all be your childhood hero. Though to be fair, when you were a kid, no one had heard of me yet. Otherwise I like to think I’d have been your top hero and Steve would be a close second.”

“Yeah, too bad about that,” Eddie smirks. “Guess it’s hard buildin’ a rep when you haven’t been born yet.”

“Aw, thanks, Eddie. But you’re already at the top of my good boy list. There’s no need for flattery.”

Eddie squints at her. “I just had a traumatic experience, quit trying to confuse me. What flattery?”

“What exactly did you think I meant last night when I said I was a lot older than you?”

“I don’t know!” Eddie says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I thought you were talkin’ like women do when they hit their late twenties and they’re pretending they think that counts as old.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow. “You think I’m in my late twenties?”

“Uh…not when you say it like that, I don’t. Wait, how old are you?”

“How dare you,” Natasha sniffs. “Never ask a lady her age.”

Eddie leans back on his pillows, crossing his arms behind his head. “Fine, but I’m just gonna look at your file. Which I can do now. Cause I’m on the team.”

“Good luck with that. Fury doesn’t even know how old I really am. So…what were you talking about when you told Steve you worked something out? Because it wasn’t about him and the soldier. You absolutely figured that out the minute you saw them together.”

“It was a couple things you said, actually,” he says, shifting to make room as she wedges herself in beside him in the narrow bed. “When I add ‘em all up with what Steve said just now, they seem to come to one conclusion.”

“Which things? And what conclusion?”

“You implied my bisexuality meant I’d fit in with the team. Then you told Annie you loved two men, and they’re in love with each other. Finding out Steve’s bisexual kinda gelled everything together.”

Natasha sighs. “What does that have to do with anything? Steve doesn’t have to be bisexual to be in love with a man.”

“No, but it sure would help if he was in love with a man and a woman.”

“Too bad he’s not.”

“Wow,” Eddie chuckles.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

“What!”

“I thought you were a lot smarter than me, is all. Turns out you’re kind of an idiot, too.”

“Oh yeah, jackass?” Natasha rejoins, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Ow, ow! Cut it out, I’m injured!” he protests, laughing at her feigned attempt to shove him off the bed. “I only think you’re an idiot when it comes to those two old war vets who were just in here.”

“You met Steve and Bucky, and of the three of us, you think _I’m_ the idiot?”

“No, I think you all are. Why do you figure they’d come flying across the country after you like that? Because Steve’s a micromanager and wants to supervise your work?”

Natasha purses her lips and doesn’t answer.

“Nat, those two may be in love with each other, but they’re in love with you, too. They probably don’t know how to tell you cause they’re from the 1940s, and they either don’t understand how something like that would work, or they’re scared you’ll think it’s too weird.”

“You don’t…know that.”

“Except I do, and you do, too. Honestly, I don’t know what you’re waiting for. Pretty much every so-inclined man or woman on the planet would give a limb to be in your shoes.”

“I know, ok? I know. But I won’t risk hurting him. I just…I can’t.”

“Hurting who, Steve?”

Natasha gives him a look.

“You mean…oh shit. You were both with the Soviet—”

“Yes. Shut up,” she hisses, as if she’s suddenly worried someone might overhear. “I met him when I was a teenager. He trained me, to be what I am now. We were—we had non-professional feelings for each other. They found out.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, struck with an unexpectedly deep pang of empathy for her. “Oh, Nat…I’m so sorry.”

“They made me watch while they tortured him. While they erased me from his mind. They hurt him because of me. Because he…anyway, now he’s finally out from under their control. He has Steve back and they’re happy. Why would I intrude into their happiness? How could I ask him to relive that hell for me?”

“I get what you’re saying, but that hell you’re talkin’ about…you’re livin’ it by yourself. You think he wants that? You think either of them want that?”

There is a long pause, in which Natasha finds herself actually unable to come up with a solid counterpoint, which hasn’t happened to her since…

“Oh yeah, well who died and made you everyone’s fucking therapist,” she grumbles, scooting closer to nestle her head in the crook of his neck. “Mind your own damn business.”

“Yeah, ok,” Eddie laughs. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

At that moment, nurse walks in the door and stops short. “Uh, ma’am, you really shouldn’t be—”

“Fuck off!” Natasha snaps, at which the man backs hastily out of the room and shuts the door behind him.

Eddie hooks his arm around her and rocks her playfully. “You a little grouchy, Agent Romanov?”

“I haven’t rested properly in like…thirty-six hours,” she yawns. “Gonna sleep on you for a while. No more talking.”

“I don’t know, your boyfriends might get jealous and try to—”

“I have so many knives, Eddie.”

“Ok, jeez, sorry. Sleep tight, princess.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Eddie lies staring at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of her body and listening to her breathing becoming soft and regular as she drifts off to sleep. Having someone physically close like this helps, but there’s nothing in the world that can soothe the hollow ache, deep in the pit of his being. Nothing but his other. His own. His beloved. He has lost him so many times, each more agonizing than the last. This is the first time, however, that he has not fallen immediately into the utter reaches of despair. The first time he sees a ray of hope in the dark. The first time he is not alone. _Not alone._ He cranes his neck to look down at Natasha’s sleeping face. A stray lock of her dark red hair has fallen across her cheek. He reaches up and smooths it back, then presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“We’ll get you back, V,” he whispers to himself, as he closes his eyes. “We’ll never give up on you. I promise.”

He remains awake in thought for a while longer, though, attempting to come to terms with the reality that in order to rescue his beloved, he will have to confront their child, likely violently. A child for whose death he has grieved, and whose loss changed the course of his entire life. A child who hates him with a bitterness and bile he didn’t know was possible, for someone who’d never met him. He doesn’t even hate his own worthless drunk of a father that much, and he’s still got a few scars the old man gave him to make sure he never forgot. But it’s the child’s cruelty that wounds him most. Its willingness to hurt and manipulate Venom to get whatever it’s seeking awakens a deep, smoldering wrath within the bedrock of his soul.

Sorrow and rage are at war within him, dragging him in two directions. But through the chaos and turmoil, there is a still, small voice, that tells him he must turn away from both. Allow them to pass over him and through him. Open his mind and look for peace in the blackness of the void. He focuses on this, until the blazing infernos within him cool, and are extinguished. He is calm now, and clear. He knows Venom’s kind. Their strengths and their weaknesses. He knows their vulnerabilities. How to control, incapacitate, and even destroy them. When he finds the ones who hurt them, the ones who took his other away, he will be prepared. If he must do so, he will kill his own child. Nothing will keep them apart. No one.

_Stay together always._

_Always, love._

_I promise._

“I still don’t feel any different. How can you be so sure this is going to work?”

Trevor looks worried. This makes L want to laugh, but that won’t reassure him. He won’t understand till his symbiote attaches, and he feels its power.

She rolls over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. “Ace is one of their kind, Trev. She’s sure. That’s good enough for me. Plus, you heard what Dr. Allan, said.”

“I did, and from what I can tell, she doesn’t actually seem to know much, either,” Trevor says, shaking his head. “Kind of sounded like she was winging it with a bunch of sci-fi nonsense to placate us. I don’t know what kind of biochemistry her degree is in, but she couldn’t answer some pretty basic questions I asked about the creatures’ biology. Like how they generate constituent matter so quickly, or how they absorb nutrients without parasitizing the host.”

“But you know it works. You’ve seen what I can do, now that I have Ace with me. Remember how much pain I was in before? You’re a doctor, you know what my life was like. How bad it was gonna get.”

“Yes, L, and as a physician who has studied in this field, I don’t understand how organisms like these function symbiotically within a human system. And I can’t figure out what it’s costing your body. From what I can tell, you’re healthier than you’ve ever been. So where is it getting the resources from?”

“Eating. Just like any other living creature.”

“Eating what?”

“She likes human organs and brain tissue, mostly, but she’ll eat any kind of animal. She won’t eat dead ones though. Gotta be alive.”

“So, they’re carnivores,” he says, reaching out and sliding his palm down the smooth curve of her back.

“Yep. They can’t survive without a host because they can’t eat. They need us to hunt for their food, so they give us enhancements that make us extremely good hunters. Symbiosis. Are you having second thoughts, Trev? Cause…it’s a little late for that.”

“Maybe I’m just a little anxious because this defies all medical logic.” Trevor sighs. “So, what’ll it feel like? When it finally happens?”

“Oh, you’ll fucking know, trust me. It’s gonna be weird at first. Thought I was full-on hallucinating when she started talking. Then it was scary, because I didn’t understand what she was, but I got to know her and we just clicked. It’s like having a friend who’s always there.”

“And who also gives you biological armor and superhuman abilities.”

“Exactly.”

“Why was she so worried about the black one and the guy we got it off of? They looked kind of scary, but they didn’t even put up a fight.”

L shrugs. “She wasn’t sure how stupid they were. Turns out, extremely. I mean, she’s their kid and they still fell for our ‘big bad monster captured the helpless little girl’ routine. Fuckin’ amateurs.”

“I can’t believe you’re still pulling that damsel in distress shit,” he laughs.

“Why not? Works like a charm.”

“Especially when it’s a man and you’re naked.”

“Obviously,” she says, as she pushes him down and sits astride his hips. “Look how hot I am.”

He rests his hands on her narrow waist. “I’m looking. Remind me why it took us so long to start fucking?”

“Honest answer or flirty one?”

“Are those…real options?”

“Flirty answer, you’re a dude and you were just too dumb to see how amazing I am. Honest answer, even if you had, I wouldn’t have been into it. The MS and depression pretty much obliterated my sex drive.”

“Seems like it’s back, now.”

“With a vengeance, baby,” she purrs, leaning down to kiss him.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, as she takes his cock in her hand and guides him into her velvety heat. “You feel so fucking good.”

He gazes up at her lithe, slender body as she rolls her hips languidly, riding him like carousel horse. She’s teasing him. Trying to taunt him into taking control and fucking her the way she likes it. She gives a little yelp as he rolls her suddenly onto her back. He pushes her knees further up and apart, working his powerful thighs and gluteal muscles to pound into her body with force that would be potentially destructive to a regular human. She laughs and tells him to fuck her harder. Beads of sweat run down his face, dripping off his chin and splashing onto L’s flat stomach. Purple-black tendrils reach out and coil around his head and neck, cooling his heated skin and soaking up his perspiration. He pistons his hips, plunging in with everything he has until she’s shaking and moaning, clawing bloody scratches into his skin while she comes. A few more thrusts and he stops, holding his cock as deep as it can go as it pulses inside her. With his last remaining bit of energy, he carefully disengages, then collapses panting on his back.

He hasn’t had sex like this since before the enhancement back in the SOG. After the treatment started, they learned very quickly that they had to be extremely careful with non-augmented humans. Hernandez called it ‘fucking on eggshells’ and that wasn’t too far off. Early on, before he really understood the extent of his enhancements, Trevor had dislocated his girlfriend’s hip and left her with bruises that made it look like a sex crime. He felt fucking awful about it, and it was an extremely humiliating experience for a surgeon, to have the ER doctors and nurses giving him the eye, and know they absolutely disbelieved his girlfriend when she swore for the twentieth time it had been consensual and non-violent. She was really sweet and understanding about the whole thing, but she broke up with him soon after, and he never touched a regular person again. He knew exactly what he could do to a human body if he actually lost control, and he couldn’t handle the anxiety that he might injure another woman.

He wonders what it’ll be like when the thing in him starts working like L’s, and he becomes a monster again. A predator that hunts and kills other humans, though he’s sworn to heal them. Probably a lot like being back in the SOG. They made him kill people, Hippocratic oath be damned, and after a while, he got used to it. Didn’t really mind, as long as they weren’t children or noncombatant women. Physicians are often called upon to shut off the part of their brain that tells them this is a human being, not just a collection of bones, organs, and muscle tissue arranged a specific way. They have to learn to separate person from patient, in order to do their jobs. That experience had helped prepare him for the mental shielding he had to build in order to do his SOG job, or he’d probably still be having nightmares. Hasn’t had one in a long time, but there’s a reason they all like to fall asleep with the TV on. You let it get too quiet, you start thinking. Remembering. Questioning what you’ve done. That way lies madness.

Maybe that’s why L likes having a thing around that talks in your head all the time. Hopefully it doesn’t swing too far in the opposite direction and drive you insane that way. The guy they took the Venom thing from didn’t seem insane to him, but he’d only seen him trying to comfort L, then lying insensate on the floor. He wonders if that paralytic Agony synthesized killed him. He had explained dosage per body weight and all that to her, but he can’t be sure how closely she followed his advice. She obviously didn’t actually want him dead, though, or she wouldn’t have asked. He looks over at L, who is staring up at the ceiling, with the little half-smile she gets when she’s in her head, talking to her alien parasite, or whatever Agony really is. She doesn’t notice when he gets up, pulls on his underwear and goes out to the kitchen.

“Could you two be any louder?” Ramon says, as he takes a bottle of blue Gatorade out of the fridge. “I don’t think all the people in this area code heard you.”

“Yeah, probably,” Trevor answers, then takes a thoughtful swallow of his sports drink. “I mean, I’m sure I could figure out a way to make her—”

“Shut the fuck up, man!” Carl interrupts, tossing a couch pillow at his head, which he catches and throws back. “No one wants to hear you fucking and then have to hear _about_ it, too.”

“Hernandez asked,” Trevor grins.

“It’s called sarcasm, jackass, or don’t they teach that in med school,” Ramon retorts.

“They offer it as an elective, but I was too busy learning how to stitch you back up when you do stupid shit to your body.”

“Everyone gets injured, doc,” Ramon defends. “Don’t act like it’s just me.”

Trevor crosses his arms. “Name a single other member of the team who has set off three separate shrapnel mines.”

“Ok, well…you have a point. But you’re lucky the boss isn’t here. She woulda gone in there and turned the hose on you two.”

“When are the things gonna start responding, you think?” Carl asks, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

“Couple days at the most.” Trevor finishes his Gatorade and tosses the bottle in the waste bin, then takes another from the refrigerator. He’s so fucking thirsty, Christ. “As far as Agony says, the seed cells don’t need time to gestate like human embryos. They just have to grow to the point where they can attach on their own. They won’t be full adults for three months or so, but they can bond to hosts pretty much immediately.”

“Hey, doc…you really think it’s safe?” Ramon asks. “I mean, we don’t even know what these things are.”

“Damn it, Hernandez, I’m a doctor not an alien parasitologist,” Trevor returns, at which Carl laughs and Ramon rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, is anything we do safe? We let them pump us full of god knows what to augment us for the SOG. This doesn’t seem all that different.”

“It doesn’t?” Carl asks, eyeing him doubtfully.

“Ok, it’s a fuckload different. But we’ve already got them in our bodies, so I’d say it’s a little late for second-guessing.”

“I wonder what Dr. Allan’s gonna do with the black one,” Ramon muses. “It didn’t look like it was doin’ too hot. I mean, it’s a living ball of tar, but…you know. It seemed kind of sick.”

“He’s staying there with her, for now,” L says, as she saunters in at that moment, wearing Agony as leggings and a tank top. “That was the deal. Dr. Allan wants to study the species, and Ace thinks if she can get him to successfully attach to someone else, he could still be snapped out of his obsession with the hot blonde. Win-win.”

“Isn’t it a little weird, you talking about the guy that way?” Carl frowns.

L gives him a look. “You know I’m not actually related to him, right Mach?”

“Well, yeah, but your symbiote is. Aren’t you sort of…fused in your genes now?”

“That’s not really how DNA works,” Trevor puts in. “Agony and L can share a body, even share actual cells, without—”

He stops talking mid-sentence. His blue eyes go wide and vacant, and his open bottle of Gatorade falls from his hand, splashing out all over the kitchen floor. L just barely catches him before his head hits the edge of the countertop.

“Shit, what’s wrong with him!” Ramon exclaims.

“It’s happening,” L answers breathlessly.

She carries her teammate to the sofa, where she straddles him and pins him down to prevent him hurting himself, as his body begins to shake and seize. The other two men watch apprehensively, but don’t dare come closer. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the fit seems to pass. His eyes flutter open and he stares blankly at L, who hops off of him and backs away step so he can stand up. His skin is so pale she can see the blue veins beneath his eyes and on his bare chest. He blinks at her for a moment, then leans close and presses his nose into the smooth skin on her neck, breathing in deeply.

“Sister,” he says.

“Brother,” L smiles, taking his face in her hands to kiss him.

“Gross,” Ramon puts forth.

“Seriously,” Carl agrees. “Can you guys not—ok. Hernandez, you want to watch TV really loudly in the other room?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Ramon says, as they both move hastily toward the door.

“Guys, stop being fucking immature,” L calls after them. “We’re not gonna fuck right here in the living room.”

“Hungry,” Trevor murmurs, as silver-black tendrils emerge and begin to creep up his neck onto his face.

Agony surfaces as well, and the two take their combined forms with their symbiotes at the same time. When the transformation is complete, she inspects her new brother approvingly. The Trevor/symbiote body is larger and bulkier than hers, and has an oddly haphazard look to its metallic hide, as if it is made from molten lead that has not entirely cooled. He is strong. Not so strong as she is, but enough.

“ **Come**. **We will show you the way we hunt**.” He follows her obediently toward the balcony door, then she pauses and turns back to him. “ **What is your name, my brother**?”

His fang-filled maw stretches open, letting his serpentine tongue coil out, as he raises his massive, clawed hands before him. The fingers fuse together, extending and tapering outward, to form long, thin, razor-sharp blades.

“ **We are Riot**.”


End file.
